If they’d stop doing experiments on me, that is.”
“They’re not experiments. They’re just tests to make sure you’re healthy,” I pointed out.
He snorted. “Whatever. I know what’s really going on.”
I was about to ask him what was really going on but caught myself in time. I didn’t want to get into it. We’d have plenty of time for conspiracy theories later.
He slammed his hand against the window, making me jump, then pressed his forehead to the glass. A foggy patch appeared near his mouth.
I glanced back toward the open door. The kitten nurse was headed toward us.
“How are we doing in here?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. Wes just glared. “Um, I’m going to get myself a coffee. Do you want anything?”
“Yeah. Coffee. Black,” he said.
“Is that all right?” I asked the nurse. “Can I get some food and bring it in here?”
She nodded. “That’s fine, but Wes needs to stay here.”
“I’ll be right back,” I told him. He had already turned back to the window, both hands pressed against the glass as though in surrender. I stepped into the hallway and waited while the nurse locked the door.
“Why are you locking it?” I asked, pitching my voice low so he wouldn’t be able to hear me.
“We don’t normally have psychiatric patients on this side,” she explained. “It’s just a precaution.”
“Has he tried to get out?”
“Twice today,” she said, giving me a significant look. “I left the door open while you were in there because I thought it might make you more comfortable, but I had a security officer keep an eye on it.”
“Sorry about the trouble,” I muttered. “Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?”
She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Just come back to the desk when you’re ready to see him again.”
I took the elevator down to the main level, my head swimming. This was already more complicated than I’d anticipated. Jet lag and stress and grief pulled on my nerves. I wondered if it was too early for a martini. Later , I told myself.
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I pulled it out. It was Latasha.
“Hey,” I answered.
“How is it going?” she asked. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Thanks. It’s okay.” I told her about the chaos at the hospital and Wes’s unexpected tests.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Did your brother seem . . . okay?”
“As okay as he ever does. Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just . . . have to go.”
Kenneth Chu was walking toward me.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Clare.” His body was rigid. He wore a white lab coat and held a tablet tight in one hand. A stethoscope hung from his neck.
I tried to smile, but my face was stiff and uncooperative, even as my stomach churned and my heart rattled against my rib cage. Latasha had warned me, but I hadn’t really thought I’d see him. The years had been kind: he’d lost some of his college roundness; his body was lean and his high cheekbones more pronounced. His dark hair was brushed back off his forehead. His eyes were the same—soft, warm . . . and piercing.
“Hi,” I said.
“I heard about your parents. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I wondered if you would come back.”
Ouch. I looked away.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said quickly. “It’s just—”
“It’s okay. How are you?”
“Fine. Busy.”
“Latasha told me you’d moved back home.”
He nodded. “How’s Latasha?”
I managed a small smile this time. “She’s great. Soaring career and all.”
“Great.”
We stood awkwardly for a few seconds. I gestured toward the cafeteria. “Well, I was just going to get a coffee. I should—”
“Yeah. Fine.”
I took a step away, then stopped and forced myself to look at him. “I know this is several years too late. But . . . I’m sorry. About what happened. I’ve regretted it.”
He pressed his lips together. “Which part?”
I looked at the
“They’re not experiments. They’re just tests to make sure you’re healthy,” I pointed out.
He snorted. “Whatever. I know what’s really going on.”
I was about to ask him what was really going on but caught myself in time. I didn’t want to get into it. We’d have plenty of time for conspiracy theories later.
He slammed his hand against the window, making me jump, then pressed his forehead to the glass. A foggy patch appeared near his mouth.
I glanced back toward the open door. The kitten nurse was headed toward us.
“How are we doing in here?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. Wes just glared. “Um, I’m going to get myself a coffee. Do you want anything?”
“Yeah. Coffee. Black,” he said.
“Is that all right?” I asked the nurse. “Can I get some food and bring it in here?”
She nodded. “That’s fine, but Wes needs to stay here.”
“I’ll be right back,” I told him. He had already turned back to the window, both hands pressed against the glass as though in surrender. I stepped into the hallway and waited while the nurse locked the door.
“Why are you locking it?” I asked, pitching my voice low so he wouldn’t be able to hear me.
“We don’t normally have psychiatric patients on this side,” she explained. “It’s just a precaution.”
“Has he tried to get out?”
“Twice today,” she said, giving me a significant look. “I left the door open while you were in there because I thought it might make you more comfortable, but I had a security officer keep an eye on it.”
“Sorry about the trouble,” I muttered. “Can I get you anything from the cafeteria?”
She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Just come back to the desk when you’re ready to see him again.”
I took the elevator down to the main level, my head swimming. This was already more complicated than I’d anticipated. Jet lag and stress and grief pulled on my nerves. I wondered if it was too early for a martini. Later , I told myself.
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I pulled it out. It was Latasha.
“Hey,” I answered.
“How is it going?” she asked. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“Thanks. It’s okay.” I told her about the chaos at the hospital and Wes’s unexpected tests.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Did your brother seem . . . okay?”
“As okay as he ever does. Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just . . . have to go.”
Kenneth Chu was walking toward me.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Clare.” His body was rigid. He wore a white lab coat and held a tablet tight in one hand. A stethoscope hung from his neck.
I tried to smile, but my face was stiff and uncooperative, even as my stomach churned and my heart rattled against my rib cage. Latasha had warned me, but I hadn’t really thought I’d see him. The years had been kind: he’d lost some of his college roundness; his body was lean and his high cheekbones more pronounced. His dark hair was brushed back off his forehead. His eyes were the same—soft, warm . . . and piercing.
“Hi,” I said.
“I heard about your parents. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I wondered if you would come back.”
Ouch. I looked away.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said quickly. “It’s just—”
“It’s okay. How are you?”
“Fine. Busy.”
“Latasha told me you’d moved back home.”
He nodded. “How’s Latasha?”
I managed a small smile this time. “She’s great. Soaring career and all.”
“Great.”
We stood awkwardly for a few seconds. I gestured toward the cafeteria. “Well, I was just going to get a coffee. I should—”
“Yeah. Fine.”
I took a step away, then stopped and forced myself to look at him. “I know this is several years too late. But . . . I’m sorry. About what happened. I’ve regretted it.”
He pressed his lips together. “Which part?”
I looked at the
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